


Just Another (Pie) Day

by TC (thecollective)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied Destiel - Freeform, POV Sam Winchester, Pi Day, Pie, mentions of Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecollective/pseuds/TC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An impromptu roadtrip, pie, vampires, and a burgeoning relationship. Not necessarily in that order. </p><p>Written on a prompt from Jacksqueen16, who wanted a Sam/Eileen fluffy fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another (Pie) Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jacksqueen16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksqueen16/gifts).



> A very belated birthday present for my beloved Jacksqueen16. I tried to follow your prompt, darling, but this is what happened, so consider this a part 1? 
> 
> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Note: I know very little ASL, and I apologise for any inaccuracies I have written in the way Sam and Eileen sign to each other. I'm very happy to correct any mistakes.

Dean shovels bite after bite of pie into his mouth, so fast that he scarcely closes his mouth to chew, showing half-masticated strawberry rhubarb to his brother. Sam groans in disgust, but knows it’s pointless to ask Dean to stop. (The last time he’d tried, Dean had shoved an entire burger in his mouth and then proceeded to chew it loudly and open-mouthed, like a cow munching its cud.) 

Instead, Sam settles for Bitchface #15--reserved for the days he’s truly grossed out by his older brother.

“Dude,” Dean says between mouthfuls, “You gotta try this pie.”

“No thanks,” says Sam. 

"It's Pi Day. It's a friggin holiday."

“You’ve had plenty for the both of us.” Sam's eyes slide over to his phone, almost willing it to light up with a text notification. Nothing.

“No cases,” Dean barks. "It's Pi Day. That's a day off. No bad things today. Just pie."

Sam rolls his eyes. "If you say so."

Dean stops to think for a moment. “It’s odd, though, that it’s this quiet, when we have the biggest baddest evil in the universe walking around.”

Sam nods. Still no notifications from his phone. He takes a big slurp of his coffee and adds a little more sweetener to it. Maybe Dean’s sweet tooth is rubbing off on him. His phone lights up, and he grabs it eagerly, but sets it down with another sigh when he realizes that it’s just a notification from his weather app. Chance of thunderstorms later that day, not that he plans on leaving the bunker at all once they get home. He looks up to see Dean glaring at him, fork in one hand, pointing right at him. 

“OK, what gives?” Dean asks. “Why you acting like a schoolgirl who’s waiting for her boyfriend to call?”

“I uh, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, and that extra sugar in your coffee is because you _aren’t_ trying to comfort yourself with extra carbs. Just call the girl, Sammy.”

“I can’t.”

Dean picks up Sam’s phone, waves it in front of his face. “Sure you can. Just dial those digits and put yourself outta your misery.”

“No, Dean, I  _ can’t _ call her. Because the girl? It’s Eileen.” 

Dean’s mouth rounds into a big O. Luckily, he’s already finished his pie. His brother signals the waitress. “Bring me a slice of the cherry, sweetheart?” It’s Dean’s fourth piece, and while Sam is willing to let his brother celebrate “pi day”, he’s also sure if he lets Dean keep going, his brother won’t leave this diner until he has diabetes.

“I don’t think _I’m_ the one trying to commit carbicide,” Sam mutters. He looks pointedly at Dean’s stomach. “I think your comfort food is starting to show.”

“Shut it, Samantha,” Dean says, and asks the waitress to bring the pie in a to-go box. When the pie arrives, Dean slides out of the booth and leads Sam back to the Impala. They’re about thirty miles west from Lebanon, but Sam notices that Dean’s heading north, away from the bunker. Before he can even ask, Dean says, “She’s in Nebraska.”

“Dean, we don’t have to go to Nebraska.” Yeah, he wants to see Eileen again, and he’s been watching YouTube videos to try and learn some ASL, just in case they end up working the same case again. He also texts her a few times a week (which is actually more like a few times a day, but he’s not counting). She hasn’t responded yet today, and he wonders if maybe she’s tired of talking to him. Or maybe she heard that he used to be addicted to demon blood, or that he's died (twice), or that the Winchesters are the ones responsible for the Darkness being set free. 

“Yes, we do,” Dean insists. “I know she’s in Nebraska working a case, and I know she likes you. So we’re going.” Dean’s words resound like the gavel of a judge, and Sam’s sentence has been served. They’re going to Nebraska, and he’s going to see Eileen.

“So what do I say when I get there?” 

“You’re ask her on a friggin date like a grown man, Sammy.” Dean’s eyes are fixed on the road, his brows furrowed and serious in a way that Sam rarely sees. His brother has been more serious these past few weeks; ever since he found out about Cas, it’s like Dean’s world is a little darker, and he smiles less often. Not that Sam could blame him; he’s not smiling much either knowing that his friend is possessed by the  _ devil _ . “You don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow, or the day after,” Dean says. “Darkness could suck away all this.” He gestures to the cornfields they’re passing by. “We’re not young anymore, Sammy. We gotta take chances, tell people they make us happy, that they’re important, before this world goes to shit and it’s too late.” 

Sam doesn’t think Dean’s talking about Eileen anymore. 

Dean clears his throat, and Sam knows it's so he can change the topic. “Besides, I like Eileen. She’s one hell of a hunter. It’d be nice, having her come round more often.” 

Sam smiles. “Yeah, she’s good people.” He looks over at Dean, who’s gone silent. He knows that look. It’s one Dean only wears when he’s thinking about people he’s lost, and Sam knows Dean’s thinking about the other women hunters they’ve lost over the last decade. Jo. Ellen. Charlie. “Hey,” Sam says. “Thanks.”

Dean grunts, and drives faster. “Storm ahead. Hope your girl is indoors.”

The sky in Lincoln, Nebraska, lights up purple with flashes of lightning. There’s nothing quite like thunderstorms on the plains, Sam thinks. They travel by a few motels until they spot Eileen’s car. “Showtime,” Dean sing-songs. 

Right. Showtime. Sam thinks back on all the YouTube videos he watched, but for the life of him, he can’t remember anything beyond “hello” and “I love you” in ASL. Neither of which will help him in asking Eileen on a date. Now he’s standing in front of her motel room door (he doesn’t know how Dean figured out which was hers), his hand poised to knock--which is ridiculous because she can’t hear it. He glances over to Dean, who gives him a thumbs up, and he’s above to text Eileen when he hears a crash from within the hotel room. There’s a clap of thunder and then a scream. Sam breaks through the door to find Eileen pinned against the far wall by a vampire, who’s all fangs and fury. Sam doesn’t have any weapons on him, so he charges at the vampire and grabs it from behind, hoping to distract it enough to allow Eileen to escape. The vampire struggles, breaks free, and turns on Sam. 

“Hey, fangs,” yells Dean. The vampire turns, and Dean gives it a face full of pie. It shocks the vampire into standing still just long enough for Eileen to grab her sword and behead the thing. Unfortunately, the Winchesters are in the splash zone. 

“Gross,” says Dean. “First, I sacrifice my pie--you’re welcome--and now my shirt? Ugh. You owe me, Sammy.” He leaves the motel to grab the emergency duffel that always has a change of clothes in it, leaving Sam and Eileen alone. 

“Uh, hi,” Sam says. 

“Hello, Sam,” she replies. Her smile lights up the room, and yeah, that’s what Sam’s been wanting to see again since the minute he first saw it. “Thank you,” she signs. 

“You’re welcome.”

“What are you doing here?” She signs and speaks, but does it slowly, so he can follow. 

“Uh, I….” Well this is it. Showtime. Gotta take a chance, like Dean said. So Sam takes a deep breath and signs what he thinks is “Would you like to go to eat with me sometime?”

Eileen huffs out a soft laugh, and her smile grows bigger. “You mean like a date?” She asks. She shows him the sign for “date” three or four times until he gets it. 

“Would you like to go on a date?” Sam signs. 

Eileen nods. "I thought you'd never ask."

Later, after Sam has put on a clean shirt and taken Eileen to the nearest restaurant (well, Dean drove, but Sam banished him to the other side of the dining room), he looks at the shared piece of pecan pie between them and hopes that they can do this many, many more times. He doesn’t think of the devil, or of the Darkness. All that can wait until tomorrow. 

It is, after all, Pi Day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love. 
> 
> Hello readers! I'm heading to San Diego Comic Con this summer. If you support my con fundraiser, one of the incentives offered is prompt fills--so go! Donate! I would love to write for you :)  
> You can find the fundraiser page [here.](https://www.generosity.com/fundraising/the-collective-goes-to-comic-con)


End file.
